فصل 41

41

WYLAN

Wylan sat between Alys and Jesper in a pew near the front of the church. The Ravkans, Shu, and Fjerdans had gotten themselves into a tangle of a fistfight that had left several soldiers bruised and bleeding and the Fjerdan ambassador with a dislocated shoulder. There was angry talk of trade sanctions and retribution on all sides. But for now, some semblance of order had been restored. Most of the auction goers had long since fled or been ushered out by the stadwatch. The Shu had departed, issuing threats of military action for the death of one of their citizens.

The Fjerdans had apparently marched to the doors of the Stadhall to demand that Matthias Helvar be found and arrested, only to be informed that emergency plague measures prohibited public assembly. They were to return to their embassy immediately or risk being forcibly removed from the streets.

People were bruised and concussed, and Wylan had heard that one woman’s hand had been crushed when she’d gotten knocked to the floor during the panicked rush to the cathedral door. But few went to the clinics or hospitals for care. No one wanted to risk exposure to the plague that was spreading through the Barrel. Only the Merchant Council and a few of the stadwatch remained near the altar, arguing in hushed tones that occasionally rose to something more like shouting.

Wylan, Jesper, Alys, and her maid were bracketed by stadwatch, and Wylan hoped Kaz had been right to insist he remain at the church. He wasn’t sure if he felt like the officers were there to protect him or keep him under watch. By the way Jesper kept drumming his fingers on his knees, Wylan suspected he was feeling equally nervous. It didn’t help that it hurt every time Wylan breathed or that his head felt like a timpani being savaged by an overenthusiastic percussionist.

He was a mess, there had nearly been a riot, and Ketterdam’s reputation was in tatters, and yet Wylan had to smile to himself.

“What are you so happy about?” Jesper asked.

Wylan glanced at Alys and whispered, “We did it. And I know Kaz had his own motives, but I’m pretty sure that we just helped prevent a war.” If Ravka had won the auction, the Shu or the Fjerdans would have found some excuse to launch an attack on Ravka to get their hands on Kuwei. Now Kuwei would be safe, and even if someone else eventually developed parem, the Ravkans might soon be on their way to developing an antidote.

“Probably,” said Jesper, his teeth flashing white. “What’s one little international incident among friends?”

“I think Keeg may have broken my nose.”

“And after Genya made it so nice and straight.”

Wylan hesitated. “You can go if you need to. I know you must be worried about your father.”

Jesper glanced at the stadwatch. “I’m not sure our new pals would just let me walk out of here. Besides, I don’t want anyone following me to him.”

And Wylan had heard Kaz tell Jesper to stay.

Alys rubbed a hand over her belly. “I’m hungry,” she said, glancing over to where the Merchant Council were still arguing. “When do you think we’ll get to go home?”

Wylan and Jesper exchanged a glance.

At that moment, a young man raced up the aisle of the cathedral and handed a sheaf of papers to Jellen Radmakker. They bore the pale green seal of the Gemensbank, and Wylan suspected they would show that all of the Merchant Council’s money had been funneled from a false jurda fund directly into an account intended for the Shu.

“This is madness!” shouted Van Eck. “You can’t possibly believe any of it!”

Wylan stood to get a better look, then sucked in a breath at the sharp clap of pain from his ribs. Jesper put a hand out to steady him. But what Wylan saw near the podium drove all thoughts of pain from his mind: A stadwatch officer was clapping shackles on his father, who was thrashing like a fish caught on a line.

“It’s Brekker’s work,” said Van Eck. “He set up the fund. Find the farmer. Find Pekka Rollins. They’ll tell you.”

“Stop making a spectacle of yourself,” Radmakker whispered furiously. “For the sake of your family, show some self-control.”

“Self-control? When you have me in chains?”

“Be calm, man. You’ll be taken to the Stadhall to await charges. Once you’ve paid your bail—”

“Bail? I am a member of the Merchant Council. My word—”

“Is worth nothing!” snapped Radmakker, as Karl Dryden bristled in a way that reminded Wylan distinctly of Alys’ terrier when he spotted a squirrel. “You should be grateful we don’t throw you in Hellgate right now. Seventy million kruge of the Council’s money has vanished. Kerch has been made a laughingstock. Do you have any idea of the damage you caused today?”

Jesper sighed. “We do all the work and he gets all the credit?”

“What is happening?” Alys asked, reaching for Wylan’s hand. “Why is Jan in trouble?”

Wylan felt sorry for her. She was sweet and silly and had never done anything more than marry where her family bid her. If Wylan had the right of it, his father would be brought up on charges of fraud and treason. Knowingly entering into a false contract for the purpose of subverting the market wasn’t just illegal, it was considered blasphemy, a blight on the works of Ghezen, and the penalties were harsh. If his father was found guilty, he’d be stripped of his right to own property or hold funds. His entire fortune would pass to Alys and his unborn heir. Wylan wasn’t sure Alys was ready for that kind of responsibility.

He gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “I promise.” And he meant it. They’d find a good attorney or man of business to help Alys with the estate. If Kaz knew all the swindlers in Ketterdam, then he must know who the honest dealers were too—if for no other reason than to avoid them.

“Will they let Jan come home tonight?” Alys asked, her lower lip wobbling.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“But you’ll come back to the house, won’t you?”

“I—”

“You stay away from her,” Van Eck spat as the stadwatch dragged him down the steps from the stage. “Alys, don’t listen to him. You’re going to need to get Smeet to put up the funds for bail. Go to—”

“I don’t think Alys will be able to help with that,” said Kaz. He was standing in the aisle, leaning on his crow’s head cane.

“Brekker, you wretched little thug. Do you really think this is over?” Van Eck straightened, attempting to reclaim some of his lost dignity. “By this time tomorrow, I’ll be out on bail and setting my reputation to rights. There’s a way to connect you to the Rietveld fund and I will find it. I swear it.”

Wylan felt Jesper stiffen beside him. Colm Fahey was the only connection.

“By all means, swear,” said Kaz. “Make a solemn vow. I think we all know what your word is worth. But you may find your resources somewhat constrained. The custodian of your estate will be in charge of your funds. I’m not sure how much money Wylan plans to devote to your defense, or your bail, for that matter.”

Van Eck laughed bitterly. “I wrote him out of my will as soon as Alys conceived. Wylan will never see a penny of my money.”

A murmur of surprise went up from the members of the Merchant Council.

“Are you certain?” Kaz said. “I’m sure Wylan told me you two had reconciled. Of course, that was before all this ugly business.”

“My will is perfectly clear. There’s a copy of it in—” Van Eck stopped midsentence, and Wylan watched a horrified expression spread over his father’s face. “The safe,” he whispered.

Understanding struck Wylan bare seconds later. Specht had forged a letter in his father’s hand for the ship’s captain; why not something else? Sometimes a proper thief doesn’t just take. He leaves something behind. The night they’d broken into his father’s office, Kaz hadn’t just tried to steal the seal. He’d replaced Van Eck’s will with a forgery. Wylan remembered what Kaz had said: You do realize we’re stealing your money? He’d meant it.

“There’s another copy,” said Van Eck. “My attorney—”

“Cornelis Smeet?” said Kaz. “Do you know if he breeds those watchdogs of his? Funny thing, when you train an animal to obey. Sometimes they get too easy to command. Better to keep them a little wild.”

You don’t win by running one game. How long had Kaz been planning to hand Wylan his father’s empire?

“No,” said Van Eck, shaking his head. “No.” With surprising strength, he shook off his guards. “You can’t give this cretin control of my funds,” he shouted, gesturing to Wylan with his shackled hands. “Even if I’d wanted him to inherit, he’s incompetent to do so. He can’t read, can barely string a basic sentence together on the page. He is an idiot, a soft-minded child.”

Wylan registered the horror on the Council members’ faces. This was the nightmare he’d had countless times as a child—standing in public, his deficiencies exposed.

“Van Eck!” said Radmakker. “How can you say such a thing about your own blood?”

Van Eck laughed wildly. “This at least I can prove! Give him something to read. Go on, Wylan, show them what a great man of business you will make.”

Radmakker laid a hand on his shoulder. “You needn’t oblige his ravings, son.”

But Wylan cocked his head to one side, an idea forming in his mind. “It’s all right, Mister Radmakker,” he said. “If it will help us end this tragic business, I will oblige my father. In fact, if you have a Transfer of Authority, I can sign it now and begin assembling funds for my father’s defense.”

There were murmurs from the stage, and then a file was produced with the indenture documents. Wylan’s eyes met Jesper’s. Did he understand what Wylan intended?

“These were meant for Kuwei Yul-Bo,” said Dryden. “But they haven’t been completed. There should be a Transfer of Authority.”

He offered the file to Wylan, but Jesper took it and thumbed through.

“He must read it!” yelled Van Eck. “Not the other boy!”

“I think your first investment should be a muzzle,” murmured Jesper.

He handed Wylan a document. It could have been anything. Wylan saw the words, recognized their shapes, couldn’t form their meaning. But he could hear the music in his head, that trick of memory he’d used so often as a child—Jesper’s voice reading aloud to him in the entry of Saint Hilde. He saw the pale blue door, smelled the wisteria blooming.

Wylan cleared his throat and pretended to examine the page. “This document, witnessed in the full sight of Ghezen and in keeping with the honest dealings of men, made binding by the courts of Kerch and its Merchant Council, signifies the transfer of all property, estates, and legal holdings from—” He paused. “I suppose it will say our names here, Jan Van Eck to Wylan Van Eck, to be managed by him until Jan Van Eck is once again competent to conduct … his own affairs. Do I really need to continue?”

Van Eck was staring openmouthed at Wylan. The members of the Merchant Council were shaking their heads.

“Certainly not, son,” Radmakker said. “You’ve been through enough, I think.” The look he turned on Van Eck now was one of pity. “Take him to the Stadhall. We may need to find him a medik too. Something must have addled his mind, put these mad thoughts in his head.”

“It’s a trick,” said Van Eck. “It’s another one of Brekker’s tricks.” He broke away from his guards and rushed at Wylan, but Jesper stepped in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders and holding him at bay with straight arms. “You’ll destroy everything I’ve built, everything my father and his father built. You—”

Jesper leaned in and said, quietly enough that no one else could hear, “I can read to him.”

“He has a very soothing baritone,” added Wylan, and then the guards were hauling his father down the aisle.

“You won’t get away with this!” Van Eck screamed. “I know your game now, Brekker. My wits are sharper—”

“You can only sharpen a blade so far,” Kaz said as he joined them at the front of the church. “In the end, it comes down to the quality of the metal.”

Van Eck was howling. “You don’t even know if that’s really Wylan! He could be wearing another boy’s face! You don’t understand—”

The rest of the Merchant Council followed, all looking a bit thunderstruck. “He’s come unhinged,” said Dryden.

“We should have known he wasn’t rational when he allied himself with that miscreant Pekka Rollins.”

Wylan handed the Transfer of Authority back to Radmakker. “Maybe it’s best that we don’t handle this now. I find I’m a bit shaken.”

“Of course. We’ll see to getting the will from Smeet and making sure all is in order. We can send the appropriate papers to your house.”

“My house?”

“Won’t you be going home to the Geldstraat?”

“I…”

“He will indeed,” said Jesper.

“I don’t understand,” said Alys as her maid patted her hand gently. “Jan has been arrested?”

“Alys,” said Kaz. “How would you feel about waiting out all this nasty business in the country? Far away from the threat of plague. Maybe at that nice lake house you mentioned.”

Alys’ face came alight, but then she hesitated. “Is it wholly proper, do you think? For a wife to abandon her husband at such a time?”

“It’s your duty, really,” said Kaz. “After all, shouldn’t your priority be the baby?”

Jesper nodded sagely. “Good country air, lots of fields for … gamboling about. I grew up on a farm. It’s why I’m so tall.”

Alys frowned. “You’re a little too tall.”

“It was a really big farm.”

“And you could continue your music lessons,” said Wylan.

Now Alys’ eyes were positively sparkling. “With Mister Bajan?” Her cheeks pinked; she bit her lip. “Perhaps it would be best. For the baby.”